8 September 2013

Dancing Lessons from an Unknown Deity

Here I am again - sitting
in a large pressurised metal tube that is hurtling its way through the air at
unthinkable speeds and at a frightening height. Destination Delhi. I have been
cursed by the ticketing Gods and am sitting next to an excitable and perspiring
Indian man named Oojam who is an incessant chatterer. We exchanged polite
pleasantries as we took our seats at the front and the business part of the plane
that are the perks of our respective employment. I asked Oojam if there was an
English translation for his Hindi name and he told me that it meant
‘enthusiastic’ or ‘exuberant’.

He is well named.Telling Oojam that I had
work to do and I could not yack with him did not dissuade him - so I had to
resort to putting on my headphones. It still did not stop him. He wanted to
talk about Delhi and his work. I regretted telling him the name of my Employer
as it obviously got him going. It often does with strangers. They think I may
be someone important – which I most definitely am not – and they wish to discuss
doing business with me.

Despite his real Rolex
watch and immaculate attire Oojam had not yet discovered or could not afford
deodorant. I was choking. I had to use the orange sponge earplugs that are
provided by the airline to stuff up each of my nostrils to block the stench. I made mention of this because this is what the Australian Government is
now doing to refugees that are arriving by boat. I won’t elaborate on this
issue as I also wrote an article on this subject a couple of weeks ago that I
titled “Boat People”.My curiosity is greatly
piqued by the tale of Alex’ father and I shall seek further and better
particulars when I next see my mate.I also like the word
‘pique’. The origins of this word are from the Old French ‘picque’ which
translates to a ‘prick’ or a ‘sting’. Its common day usage refers to a
stimulation of interest.

I shall endeavour to use
both words in one sentence tomorrow in a conversation with one of the English
with whom I work in Delhi. These English are not particularly bright and will
more than likely not understand what either word means. Ironically some of the
English with whom I work are also pricks.

The dwarf who was set on
fire by the Australian footballer allegedly sustained only minor injuries as a result of the incident. He was ignited
by the footballer during a drunken end-of-season event that is known as ‘Mad
Monday'. This is a ridiculous but traditional day and night of revelry by many
football clubs where players ‘let their hair down’ by drinking themselves in
stupors and playing childish pranks. It is not completely clear from
the article that was sent to me by Alex why the dwarf was in attendance at the
function - as he is not a football player. He is in fact a professional
wrestler. A spokesman from the wrestling company said in a statement that the
Little Person had sustained no injury, but he was "very distressed"
by the incident.

The statement added, "He is a performer who relies on his
self-esteem and confidence to be able to perform at events like this. Tonight
he’s feeling very miserable and spending time with friends. He’s very
distressed,"

I wished to use my plane
time for reading and writing but the man was persistent and I had to eventually
tell him that I had much work to do and I could not talk to him any more.

I told Oojam that I have been to Delhi many times and I
did not need to hear about the sites of the city. I have seen them all and I am
going to the city for work and not pleasure. I also told him that I am very
insignificant in my Company – and I could not do any business with him at all.

Oojan was very well dressed
in a camel coloured suit with blue shoes and a thick gold chain around his neck.
He was wearing a chunky and gaudy Rolex watch that was the size of a clock and
it looked real. He told me several times that it was real. His attire was in
complete contrast to mine as I was wearing what I usually do – a wrinkled tee
shirt, torn denim jeans and no shoes. Some of the rips in my jeans are designed
and others are of my own making. I am shoeless on the plane but I walked on and
will walk off in a pair of Havaiana thongs. Some may call these sandals and
others - such as the English - will call them flip-flops.

They are all
incorrect – we Australians invented thongs and we also named them.

Oojam did not seem to either notice or question why I did this – although the
air hostesses gave me peculiar looks when they served me my dinner. It is a
little difficult to breathe just through my mouth but the body odour of Oojan
is such that it was making my eyes water.

I have had to tilt my Mac
at an angle to prevent Oojam from reading what I am writing. He keeps craning
his neck to try but I think I have thwarted him.

I write to be read but in this
instance I do not wish this particular reader to intrude.

I took the opportunity to
catch up on some email correspondence whilst I was in the airport lounge in
Singapore. My friend Alex in Sydney sent me another email earlier this week that
he thought that I would be interested in reading. The email contained a link to
an Australian Newspaper with the Headline “St
Kilda's Clinton Jones apologises for dwarf burning incident”.

St Kilda is an Australian Rules
football team and Clinton Jones is one of the team’s star players. Alex sent me
the email because he knows that I love Australian Rules football, I have an interest
in dwarves and I occasionally threaten to set the odd person on fire. Unlike
Clinton Jones – I have never actually set any one on fire though and if I was
to – it would unlikely be a dwarf.

It may well be Oojam.

My interest in dwarves should not
be misconstrued. Their place in fables such as Snow White and their
re-emergence as heroic but grumpy characters in the Lord of the Rings trilogy I
am sure have interested a lot of people. I have written a little about dwarves
previously in an article I titled ‘Sleepy’ and I noted then that Dwarves don't generally like being called dwarves.

They prefer to be referred to as "Little People".

Dwarfism is a medical condition. It is a genetic disorder named
achondroplasia. Dwarves are associated with mysticism and mountains and in
ancient India they were referred to as dhvaras. They were considered to
be powerful demonic type of beings. I like India and mountains and many things
that are perceived to be mystic – and thus I am interested in Little People.

I wrote an article mentioning my
mate Alex last week that I titled “Quarks, Coincidences and Conversations”. He
is an extroverted genius scientist and is a very good mate who I have known for
a long time. In the article I mentioned that I knew Alex was
of Bulgarian heritage - and I wondered whether he and his family had arrived in
Australia as refugees - and if so did they arrive in the country on an
overcrowded and leaky and dangerous boat that may have been intercepted by the
Australian Navy?

I pondered whether Australian Immigration Authorities then
sent them to an offshore Immigration processing centre in a country like Nauru
- and kept them as prisoners in atrocious conditions for years and years.

The Australian Government’s policy on refugees is I think heartless.

It is abhorrent.

In the email from Alex that attached the link to the news article about
the Australian footballer who set the dwarf on fire - he clarified the matter
for me. Alex informed me that he was actually born in Australia however his
father was a Political
Refugee who escaped from a prison camp in Bulgaria with two of his friends.
They escaped from their cell by digging a hole with a spoon and their bare
hands.

His father and his two fellow inmates were not criminals – they were
incarcerated by the Communist regime of Bulgaria. Alex told me that after
escaping from their cell they trekked across the then named Yugoslavia and got
on a boat to Italy and they some time later arrived in Australian where they received
asylum.

I find it interesting that
asylum means both the protection that is granted by a nation to someone who has
left their native country as a political refugee as well as an institution for
people who have mental impairments. Crazy people. The origins of the word are
ancient Greek – from the words ‘asylon’
– which means ‘refuge’ – and ‘asylos’
– which means ‘a place that is safe from violence’.

I like the word
incarcerate. It is derived from the Medieval Latin word incarceratus - which is the past
participle of incarcerare - which means “to imprison”.
The Latin word forin actually means “in” and
carcer means “a prison”
or to "put behind lines”.

Local police are apparently
investigating the incident - as they probably should. The idea of a distressed
dwarf is upsetting – or it could be amusing – it depends on which way you look
at it.

Oojam has now gone to sleep and
his snoring is very loud. I have had to request another pair of the orange
sponge earplugs from the airhostesses to this time put in my ears to block out
the noise. The air hostesses continue to give me strange looks and I know that I
must look a bit silly with these plugs in both my ears and my nose.